


Falling

by Queerbutstillhere



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Bruce Wayne, Bisexual Clark Kent, Boyfriends, Breakups, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Relationships, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, M/M, POV Switches, Secret Relationship, SuperBat, best friends clois, big sis Lois lane, boyfriends to exes to boyfriends, cant stop wont stop, inspired by a song, no proof reading we die like jason todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerbutstillhere/pseuds/Queerbutstillhere
Summary: Break ups are always messy, it's even messier when years later you discover that you've been accidentally working with your ex since the break up. It's especially awkward if one of you (looking at you, Bruce) has known for far longer than the other. Such is the life of one Clark Kent.OrBruce Wayne and Clark Kent dated once upon a time, only to break up due to the constant lies. Years later, Clark finds out why there were so many lies, and he isn't sure how to deal with this.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Lois Lane, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 110
Kudos: 427





	1. Forget what I said, it's not what I meant

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally inspired by the song Falling by Harry Styles! Give it a listen!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm in my bed  
> And you're not here  
> And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands  
> Forget what I said  
> It's not what I meant  
> And I can't take it back  
> I can't unpack the baggage you left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! A couple of things :)  
> This first chapter is based loosely in 2003.  
> We say f**k a few times and imply a few things, but other than that, there's no necessary warnings?  
> Please enjoy!

Bruce yawned as he walked into the manor, already undoing the buttons on his shirt sleeves.

"Alfred" he called, looking around as he walked. The manor was mostly dark, but he could hear soft 50's music coming through the floor, which meant Clark was probably upstairs. He smiled softly to himself, poking his head into the kitchen and finding Alfred inside, cleaning dishes.

"Hello, Alfred."

"Ah, welcome home, Master Bruce. How was your dinner?" The butler said without looking up.

"It was fine."

"Well that's good. Mr Kent is wanting to speak with you."

Bruce hesitated, glancing around before stepping into the kitchen, mildly concerned.

"What about?"

"I do not know," Alfred responded in that voice that indicated he knew exactly what was wrong.

"Alfred," Bruce said, hating how his voice pitched up slightly at that.

"You best just go talk to him."

"Alfred!"

The man sighed and turned around, shaking his head lightly. "I can't tell you, lad."

Bruce clenched his jaw and looked down. Then he nodded, spun on his heel and stalked away.

He hadn't been back in Gotham long, just a few years. Long enough to get back in his family's business, long enough that the Batman was becoming well known, long enough that the public loved Brucie Wayne again. The Batman, shrouded in mystery and danger and evoking fear in every soul he came across, was silently protecting the city, to the best of his abilities. It was hard, watching such a huge city all by himself, and trying to get back home before it got too late. But Bruce was managing. He would manage, because he had to. This was his mission, his fight. Which is why he could never, ever, tell Clark.

Not even when his body was black and blue with bruises. Not even when he had fresh stitches and a dislocated shoulder. Not even when he had a busted lip or a twisted ankle. Luckily he could chalk it all up to just normal conditions of living in Gotham, and Clark, the innocent man from Kansas, would just believe him. Because Gotham? She was just like that.

Bruce stopped outside the door to the master bedroom, listening to the sounds of Clark's favorite Ella Fitzgerald record. He had brought that one from Kansas with him. He listened to it when he was upset, which was not good news for Bruce. Clark had moved in with Bruce nearly six months ago, the whole world saw it as Bruce Wayne needing company. They would never ever know about the truth of their relationship, because that would absolutely destroy both of their careers. Clark was an investigative journalist, he knew the dangers of being open about gay relationships even more than Bruce did. 

But there was a relationship there. They had been dating off and on for months before Clark moved to Gotham and got a job with the Gotham Gazette. And still, every time Bruce saw Clark, he felt that powerful rush of emotions. Emotions he hadn't felt this purely in years, if ever. It killed him to lie to Clark, but he knew Clark would walk away from him if he knew the truth, and Bruce? Bruce was a selfish man. He wanted Clark, and he wanted Batman, and for six months he'd manage to have both with little incidents. But recently he'd gotten sloppy, not waiting long enough before slipping out at night, and lies of insomnia had only gotten him so far.

He took a breath and pushed the door open, being fully hit by _They Can't Take That Away From Me_. Sitting in the middle of the large cream room, on the king sized poster bed, was one Clark Kent, piles of newspaper clippings and magazines spread around him on the gray duvet. He barely glanced up when the door opened, scribbling in his notebook furiously. Bruce shut the door and stood there with his hand on it, looking at his boyfriend quietly for a moment. Clark was tired, he could instantly tell. His broad shoulders were slumped and his usually neat black hair was falling in his eyes. He had abandoned his business casual clothes for a sweatshirt and shorts, reading glasses perched on his nose as he examined his papers.

"Hello," Bruce said softly, feeling something akin to apprehension course through him, even as he felt himself physically relaxing in Clark's presence.

"Hi."

Bruce winced. Clark was never that short. Clark always greeted him with a smile and a kiss and a cheerful analysis of his day. He clenched his jaw and turned, walking into the closet as he unbuttoned his shirt. He slowly undressed, into something more comfortable, one of Clark's flannels and some sleep pants, before walking out, setting his watch on the bedside table. Clark glanced at him again before reaching over, making room on the bed beside him so Bruce could sit down. He did, leaning over and kissing Clark on the cheek.

"What are you doing?" He asked gently, looking at the newspapers.

They were all about Batman, and there was that fear again. Did Clark figure it out? Would he figure it out? How would he react? Would he call Bruce insane, or a monster? No, think about it, Bruce. Clark is a journalist. That's his work notebook, it must be for an article.

"One of the guys wrote an article about how Batman is a criminal, and Tommy wanted a rebuttal argument. As I'm the only person in the office who likes Batman, they pinned it on me," Clark explained softly, tilting his head just enough to kiss Bruce's temple, but never pausing in his writing.

"Aah," Bruce hummed, letting his chin rest on Clark's shoulder. 

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. For being someone who ran around in spandex and Kevlar every night, Bruce had never been more afraid in his life. Finally he shifted positions, leaning forwards and going to properly kiss Clark. Who avoided it. Bruce sighed, pushing his forehead into Clark's neck.

"Bruce, I'm trying to work," Clark said evenly, like that was the reason he was avoiding Bruce's advancements.

"One of us is always working, Clark."

"I'm aware. But this article is due in two days and I'm just now getting started on it."

"It's just a persuasive essay, how hard can that be."

Clark's cold silence was the answer. It wasn't about the article, and Bruce knew that. He gave a small whine and then tried kissing Clark's neck, which got him pushed off. 

"Dammit, Clark. Can we just talk then? I know something is wrong."

"I'm working. That's what's wrong. I have to focus."

Clark's avoidance of Bruce's gaze would've instantly told him something was wrong had he not already known. Bruce grit his teeth and reached out, snatching Clark's pen.

"Hey!" Clark protested as it was smoothly pulled from his grip. 

Bruce grabbed his notebook next, tossing those to the other side of the bed.

Clark looked up at him fully for the first time that evening, or day, really, and Bruce wasn't that surprised by the anger in his blue eyes. That doesn't mean he wasn't intimidated by it. But he surged forwards, kissing Clark quickly, which went longer as Clark finally gave in, kissing him back, almost desperately. And then he pulled away.

"Are you cheating on me?"

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Bruce sat back, having been preparing to move into Clark's lap. And when he looked up at Clark's face, it was a mixture of hurt and confusion.

" _What_?" Bruce breathed out, incredulous. 

Of everything, Clark went to cheating? Clark took a breath, looking down and slowly collecting his newspaper clippings, tucking them into his notebook, and staying silent as he collected his thoughts as well.

"You think I'm cheating on you?" Bruce pressed again, reaching out and putting a hand over Clark's, stopping him.

"What am I supposed to think, Bruce?! You think I don't notice you sneaking out every night, and then coming back early in the morning when you think I'm still asleep? You think I don't notice you coming back covered in bruises and stiff as hell?!"

"Clark, do you know how insane that sounds?!" Bruce exclaimed. "You think I sneak out and cheat on you to get _beat_?!"

"I don't know!" Clark exclaimed, talking with his hands, waving them wildly. "What other explanation is there for all of this?! Cause the only explanation I can think of is some sort of sex thing! And don't you dare tell me "it's just Gotham" or "I have insomnia" because I know that's bullshit. I know you leave this house every night, Bruce! And I know Alfred knows what's going on and refuses to tell me!" 

Clark had jumped up mid rant, spinning to talk to Bruce, glaring him down.

"Clark," Bruce said gently. "I swear I am not cheating on you."

"Then why can't I believe you?" Clark asked, voice softening.

He looked sad. Incredibly sad. He didn't want to be doing this, and Bruce could tell. He didn't want to be causing all these issues and upsetting their relationship, but he couldn't pretend any longer.

"Clark," Bruce implored softly, reaching for him.

"No." His voice hardened again and he shot another glare at Bruce. "I'm sick of the lies, Bruce. You tell me right now what the hell is going on and where you're going every night."

Bruce stared at him. He couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt Clark like that. Okay, admittedly letting Clark think he was cheating on him was worse, but the Batman thing would just . . . It would scare him. He'd probably run.

"I can't do that," Bruce said, shaking his head.

There were a few seconds of painful silence, and then Clark snorted.

"Then I can't do this."

Cold fear ran through him like needles in his nerves.

"What?" He breathed out, staring up at him.

"I can't. I can't keep hiding this relationship _and_ turn a blind eye to the fact that you're constantly lying to me. Do you ever stop lying, Bruce? Whether it's to me, or to the press, or to some random girl you happen to be flirting with, or even to Alfred. Do you ever stop?"

"Clark!" Bruce protested, watching Clark start grabbing things from around the room.

"I can't. I can't do this anymore!"

"Clark, please!"

"No! Bruce!" Clark turned back to him, looking thoroughly pissed. "Either tell me the truth right now, or I walk out that door."

Clark pointed at the door, glaring at Bruce.

And Bruce? He scrambled for something to say. Anything that might be convincing enough to keep Clark. Anything that wasn't the truth. Anything but that. Because he didn't want to lose Clark, but right now he was.

"It's not. . . I'm not-" Bruce took a breath, standing. "You have to trust me, Clark."

"How can I trust someone who lies to me!" Clark practically screamed and it hurt Bruce's ears.

He winced back, and Clark instantly pulled back, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a few deep breaths and then opened them, glaring.

"You have thirty seconds."

"I'm not lying, Clark."

Clark scoffed and shook his head, looking away. Bruce could see how wet his eyes were getting.

"Clark, please. Believe me, I'm not cheating on you, and there's nothing going on."

"Then how do you get so injured?"

"You know I do martial arts."

"Do I? Why have I never seen you practicing it then?"

"I-" Bruce had no defense there.

Why had he never thought up a convincing lie for this situation? Oh, maybe because there wasn't one.

"God dammit. You really can't stop, can you?"

Clark whirled away, walking to the door and pulling on a pair of tennis shoes that were sat there, Bruce jumped up and followed him.

"Clark."

"You know what, Bruce. When you feel like telling me the truth, you can just come and find me, okay? I don't know what's going on, but it's fucking weird and I can't do this to myself anymore."

"Clark."

"Ya know, I really thought, for a while there, that you actually loved me. But people don't lie like this to people they love. Not sane people, anyway."

Bruce grit his teeth. Clark grabbed his work bag and then turned to look at Bruce.

"Did you ever love me?" He asked, eyes flickering over Bruce's face.

His heart was already pounding so fast, but that made it feel like it had stopped. Silence stretched for what felt like eternity, and then Bruce spoke the biggest lie in his life.

"No."

Clark physically recoiled, eyes wide, mouth falling open in shock. Bruce instantly wanted to take it back, he wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to fix this.

But Clark was already leaving, spinning and rushing out the door. Bruce hurried to follow, chasing him down the stairs.

"Clark, wait, please."

"Fuck you!" Clark yelled, and he was clearly crying.

"Clark!"

Clark ran out the front door, slamming it hard. Bruce screeched to a halt in the front entry, staring at the closed door, numbness washing over him.

". . . Well. I do believe you deserved that."

Bruce whirled on Alfred, opening his mouth to yell, except nothing but a choked sob came out.

"Oh, my dear boy," Alfred said softly, walking over and gently putting an arm around Bruce.

"What have I done." Bruce muttered, staring at the wall in numb shock.

Alfred just gently shushed him, directing him to the kitchen and starting tea, rubbing his back as he sat there in numb silence. He had just destroyed potentially the most important thing in his life. For what? For some holy crusade? Was it really worth it? Worth losing Clark?

He didn't cry. He wasn't that type. He hadn't cried in years. Instead he drank Alfred's tea and then a good stiff drink before going out as Batman, against Alfred's better judgement. Everything seems hazy, blurry, he couldn't quite seem to focus or remember anything that he did that night. All he could remember was this horrible crushing weight on him, one that he couldn't name or identify, one that threatened to suffocate and kill him.

When he got back home that night, later than he'd ever stayed out before, he had a couple more drinks and stumbled upstairs, laying in his bed, in their bed, and staring at the wall. His chest ached and he didn't know why, his head felt stuffy, like he was sick, and his body was heavy. But he couldn't sleep, he just was there. After a moment, he rolled over onto Clark's side of the bed, shoving his face into Clark's pillow. It smelled like his shampoo and body wash, and that distinct Clark smell that Bruce could never quite name. And then, only then, did he cry.

Because _he had hurt Clark._

Nearly a week later, a week that dragged by in a painful blur, Bruce walked in from work to find Alfred setting a box in the front foyer, next to several other similar boxes.

". . . What's going on."

Alfred sighed, looking up at him.

"It'd be best if you went upstairs, Master Wayne."

"Clark?"

Alfred nodded just slightly. Bruce turned and sprinted through the manor, up the stairs and then down the hall to the bedroom, the door was cracked open and he could hear movement from inside. He took a steadying breath before walking in, finding, as he expected, Clark inside. He was folding a shirt and then placed it inside a box sat on the bed.

"So that's it."

Clark's head snapped up, looking over at Bruce like he hadn't heard him. Clark had exceptional hearing.

"Bruce," he greeted, looking back down at the next shirt he was folding.

"You're just packing? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to live with Zach for a bit until I can get an apartment in Metropolis, the Planet offered me a job."

A weight sense of permanence hit Bruce as he was told point blank this was it. This was the end. He nodded.

"Okay."

Clark glanced over, almost looking surprised. "You're just going to let me go?" He asked, eyebrow raising.

"What do you expect me to do? Cry and scream and beg you not to go?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes. But apparently I never mattered to you, huh?'

"Clark," Bruce implored gently, crossing the room. "Of course you did."

Clark looked up, tilting his head and raising both his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't love me?"

He immediately returned to packing, and didn't even wait for Bruce to respond.

"Anyway, I'm not staying with a liar anymore. So yes, I'm moving, and yes, this is it."

Silence stretched between them as Clark moved to the closet. Bruce felt like he should do something, but nothing was coming to mind.

It was better for him to do this alone anyway. For him to be alone. People would just get hurt if they were close to him.

"Okay."

Clark had just stepped back into the room, and almost looked shocked at the fact that Bruce just accepted this. Then he looked offended for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t trust me, and I can’t tell you the truth. You’re right, this would not be a good relationship.”

Clark took a breath, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Clark finished shoving some things into his boxes.

“Did you get all your things from the bathroom?”

“Yeah. And from the closet.”

“From the office?”

Clark paused, tilting his head.

“I’ll check there next.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t want you to leave anything important.”

Here, Clark would usually say something about Bruce being his something important, but as was he just nodded absently and walked away.

Bruce threw his gaze around the room briefly, looking for anything that might be Clark’s, honestly, it had been so long, things that were Clark’s were his now. He couldn’t remember anymore. He finally decided there was nothing and shrugged off his suit jacket, hanging it up before walking back out, hands in his pockets. The house already felt colder, emptier. She was too big for two people to live in, but he couldn’t bring himself to sell it. Besides the cave was here. And that’d just be inconvenient. He made his way downstairs, finding Clark walking back from the office, tucking a few things into his work bag.

“I’ll help you take things out to your car,” Bruce offered.

“That would be appreciated,” Clark said, barely glancing up.

So together, they silently stuffed Clark’s car full of boxes and bags and all his things. The longer they worked, the heavier Bruce felt, the more tired. Clark made one last trip inside to say goodbye to Alfred, but Bruce stood by the car. He placed his hand on the warm metal and closed his eyes, letting the weighty despair fill him, wash over him. He accepted it and let it consume him, as he had with all his other fears.

The door shutting startled him, but he didn’t react. Just stood there with his eyes closed. 

“Well. . . “ Clark said softly, right in front of Bruce.

Bruce opened his eyes and looked at him. Clark was just barely an inch taller, enough that Bruce had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

“I guess this is goodbye?”

“I guess,” Bruce whispered, neither of them breaking eye contact.

Clark sighed softly. He brought up his hands, gently cupping Bruce’s face. Then he leaned in, gently pressing a kiss to Bruce’s lips.

“Goodbye Bruce. . . I will miss you.”

“Me too, Clark.”

They kissed again. To any outside viewer, this was just a normal kiss, but it was tainted with sorrow and bittersweetness. There was a hint of finality as they kissed, both dragging it out a little longer than they should’ve. Then Clark pulled away, clearing his throat and looking away for a second. 

“Bye,” he said again softly, then he gently kissed Bruce’s forehead and stepped away, walking around to the car.

“Goodbye, Clark,” Bruce responded, stepping back from the car.

He watched his boyfriend- no, ex-boyfriend, climb into the car that seemed ridiculously small compared to Clarks wide shoulders and huge muscles.

Then he turned, walked inside, and went straight down to the cave, not even stopping to talk to Alfred. He worked out for a few hours before getting changed and going up. He solved two different police cases that night, one of them including finding and saving a young girl who had gone missing three weeks ago. He just worked, and worked. He worked until his days blurred together, and people at Wayne Enterprises were starting to notice. He worked until he didn’t sleep for three days and Alfred started trying to drug him in order to get him to just go to bed, and stop working, dammit.

But he couldn’t. Because that wasn’t his bed. It was their bed. Only it wasn’t anymore, because Clark left. Clark was gone and he wasn’t coming back and Bruce couldn’t fix that. That was the one thing he couldn't fix. And Bruce hated not being able to fix it. But it was for the best, and that’s just what he had to keep telling himself in order to keep going. Even months later when he started seeing Clark Kent’s name on papers everywhere.

It was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So since I'm getting an overwhelming amount of Anti-Clark anon comments. I've made the decision to turn off anonymous comment for this work. Especially since I'm starting to vibe that it's one specific person.  
> Honestly who has that much time on their hands?  
> Anyway! If you'd like to leave me a comment, please sign up for an Ao3 account, I promise it's worth it!


	2. What if I'm Someone You Won't Talk About?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if I'm down?  
> What if I'm out?  
> What if I'm someone you won't talk about?  
> I'm fallin' again  
> I'm fallin' again  
> I'm fallin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were three responses to last chapter  
> 1: Clark's so mean! Why would he do that to Bruce!  
> 2: Isn't Clark being super hypocritical?  
> 3: wow this is so heartbreaking :(
> 
> And wow, were my comments wild.  
> But anyway, thank y'all for all the love on the first chapter! Here's the second one, Enjoy!!!

Clark tapped his fingers on the small table, staring down at the newspaper in front of him. He really hated bringing work to work with him, but hey, he was on a deadline and Clark Kent needed to get paid, okay? So the Justice League will have to forgive him for bringing a newspaper or two with him. That’s just how adult life works, okay?

He was the first one to the Justice Hall that day. It really wasn’t that surprising. It was usually him or Diana. Barry always zoomed in at the last minute, Hal, when he was there, strutted in about two minutes before Barry, and Arthur was just a wildcard every time. Batman showed up exactly five minutes before meetings were scheduled(Which were fifteen minutes before they would even actually start), and Clark and Diana just got there whenever they got there, usually ten to twenty minutes beforehand. Clark had been there for a while and was sitting at the table, working on a rebuttal to an article published that was anti hero. It wasn’t that hard, honestly, since he was a superhero, and worked closely with superheroes, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily enjoyed doing this.

He was always given this type of thing. Whether it was because of his “connections” to Superman, or because he just in general liked superheroes. Whenever someone at the planet wanted to argue superheroes, everyone immediately turned to him. And that’s fine, but Clark did have other jobs to be doing.

“Ah! Clark, I see you’re already back to work.”

Clark looked up, already smiling. He had heard Diana walking in, of course, but he liked to pretend he didn’t. It always made other heroes feel better.

“Well, the life of a reporter never ends.”

“Hmm. Another bit about heroes then?”

“Yeah, one of my fellow reporters wanted to argue that Batman is actually not a hero, and has caused Gotham more harm than good.”

“Well that’s not true.”

“Yeah, I lived in that shithole for a while, it’s gotten weirder, but definitely not worse.”

“I always forget you dated Bruce Wayne,” Diana hummed, coming and sitting beside him, tossing her cloak down onto her seat first. She was wearing her classic Wonder Woman outfit, but her hair was currently pinned back into a bun. The spring air was chilly enough to require a coat, but not bad.

“Yeah,” Clark said softly.

It was still a touchy topic. People in metropolis didn’t care too much who you dated, but you still didn’t go around yelling that you’re interested in both men and women. That’s how you get mugged. And on top of that, Clark still had some . . . painful feelings involving Bruce. Mostly unresolved ones. Mostly, he maybe never quite got over Bruce, even if he had broken his heart. Lois had told him a million times to suck it up and just forget the guy, but how do you forget a man who could make an invincible alien cry for mercy? Also he’s Bruce Wayne. You don’t forget someone like Bruce Wayne. The public and the media didn’t let you. And Clark was the media.

“Ah, I am sorry, I did not mean to bring up bad memories.”

“No, you’re fine, Diana. I just need to move on.”

Diana reached out, touching his arm.

“I’d like to tell you, whenever you’re ready. But it’s been three years, Clark. You do need to move on.”

“Move on from what?”

Clark glanced up as Arthur walked over. He sighed, tucking his pen into his notebook and closing it. His work time was officially over.

“An old relationship.”

“Ah. Then probably. Don’t waste your energy on someone who doesn’t deserve it, Clark. Especially if she left you.”

“I’m. . . I’m the one who did the leaving.”

“Oh well then I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“Well, yeah. He kept lying to me. Like non-stop.”

Arthur looked over, eyebrow raised. He took a moment to answer. “Well then you made a good choice, Clark. You can’t have survived in a relationship like that, not when you were probably already lying to him to hide your secret identity.”

“Yeah I guess. I dunno. It doesn’t change how much it hurts,” Clark said with a sigh.

“Are we done giving Clark relationship advice?” A deep voice grumbled, and Clark actually jumped, turning back to the door.

Batman and Robin were standing in the doorway, Robin grinned and waved.

“Hey, Bats,” Clark said, smiling and waving back. “Robin.”

“Hi Clark!” the kid exclaimed. He skipped over, hugging Clark tightly.

“You’re here early,” Diana remarked as Bruce sat on Clark’s other side.

“Less traffic than expected.”

“He’s lying,” Robin whispered with a grin, as the ten year old was pulled up onto Clark’s lap.

“Really?” Clark asked, grinning back.

“Yuupp!”

“Robin,” Batman grumbled, and Robin just grinned sheepishly, then he gasped.

“Look at my game!” Robin produced a Nintendo DS from somewhere - where that child had pockets, Clark didn’t know - and started loading it up.

Batman and Diana were discussing something about this months meeting, and Arthur was watching Clark with unveiled interest, probably adjusting to the new information he had learned. Robin was showing him some kind of farming simulation game, explaining how it worked, like Clark was 50 years old and didn’t understand technology. He just laughed and countered by explaining how real farming worked. Robin just blinked up at him as if that confirmed that Clark was an old man.

“Hey guys.”

Just on time, Hal sauntered in, saluting to Bats before walking to his usual seat beside Diana, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hello Hal,” Clark greeted with a smile.

“Hi, Hal! Clark, look-” Robin said, concentration not even broken by the newcomer.

Hal chuckled in response. And Clark let himself be distracted by Robin.

Once Barry arrived, they started the meeting, as their other few members wouldn't be making it to this meeting, and Robin slid off Clark to go and run and sit on an actual seat by himself, playing his game in silence, thoroughly entertained by it.

The meeting itself was the usual boring stuff, Clark wasn’t that interested, he just focused on what Batman was telling them and answered questions when he could. After the meeting was over, Barry immediately zipped off with Hal to go get food, and Arthur left, leaving just Clark, Diana, Batman, and Robin.

“Hey, bats. Do you read the planet?”

Batman looked up at him, eyebrow raised. Or Clark assumed that’s what that face was. Obviously he couldn’t tell, due to the mask.

“Why would I read a paper from outside my town. I barely have time to read the Gazette, let alone the Daily Planet, Kent.”

It was still so odd how Batman rarely referred to him as Clark. It was always Superman or Kent. And the few times he did call him Clark, the tones and inflections were so familiar for some reason.

“Ookay. Anyway, one of the guys wrote an anti-Batman article and now I have to write a pro-batman article.”  
“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?”

“Well, maybe. But they don’t know that. Besides, I’m usually the guy who does these types of columns.”

“Why, because you have connections to Superman?”

“Yeah, actually. Lois jokes I’m being exploited.”

Batman pressed his lips into a thin line, and then stood. “Robin, lets go. And I don’t care what you write, Kent. I’m used to criticism.”

“Coming, B,” Robin said, but didn’t move.

Batman had nearly made it to the door when he turned around and noticed Robin hadn’t followed.

“Robin.”

“Sorry!”

Robin hopped up, closing his DS. He ran around and hugged both Diana and Clark before scrambling after his mentor.

“Bye guys!” he called, waving over his shoulder.

“Bye Bats, Bye Robin!”

Diana looked at Clark, eyebrow raised.

"How long do you think he'll continue to keep his identity secret?"

"Until he dies."

She laughed, shaking her head and standing.

"I have to go. I shall see you, Clark."

"Bye, Diana. See you around."

Clark packed up his things and walked out, lights flicking off and doors locking behind him. 

Weeks passed, as normal. Clark went to work, by lunch he had stopped a world ending crisis, he published articles and saved lives. He got drinks with co-workers on the weekends and talked shit with Lois the morning after when she was hungover. This was his life, and he was happy.

Happy enough, anyway.

He hadn't found love again in these last three years. 

He still remembered the weeks leading up to the breakup. He knew Bruce wasn't cheating on him. He knew Bruce was doing some weird late night activities. And he suspected, at the time, that Bruce might be Batman. But that never quite felt right. He was hoping he could push Bruce to tell him. But then he had instead told Clark he had never loved him, he had lied, point blank. And Clark didn't know how to respond to that. He knew Bruce had lied, had seen it on his face, heard it in his heart and his voice. But that didn't make it hurt less, in fact it was worse.

It was just a normal Thursday when it happened. He had been walking from lunch back to the Planet, carrying his thermos full of sweet tea(he had actually gotten to take his lunch break today), he had stopped to talk to the girls at the downstairs front desk for a moment before going and hopping in the elevator. The doors were just sliding close when a hand stuck out and stopped them. Clark looked up, unsurprised.

Attached to the hand was an arm, wearing a crisp white dress shirt with silver cuff links and dark blue suit, and attached to that arm was a man. He was about Clark's height, large shoulders, thin waist, well muscled. His hair was black, and nearly combed and styled properly, and he had a pair of sunglasses, some expensive brand, blocking his eyes. But Clark recognized those sharp cheekbones and defined jawline. He'd recognize them anywhere. The man had no sooner stepped into the elevator than he screeched to a halt, barely out of the way of the closing doors.

"Clark?" Asked an all too familiar voice, even if it was a little deeper and gruffer then Clark remembered.

"Bruce."

They stared at each other for a moment, both in a bit of shock. Clark launched back into action first.

"Where are you uh- what floor?"

"Oh, fifteen. You actually might be able to help?" Bruce said with a false self-deprivating smile. "I was looking for a Ms. Lois Lane, and I swear I always get lost in these offices."

Clark let out a chuckle in spite of himself, but didn't hit a button. He had already been going to floor fifteen.

"Yeah, I can find Lo for you, she should be back from her lunch break by now."

"Oh, you know her?"

"Yeah, she's one of my closest friends."

"Oh," that was said a little differently. "Well, I guess I stumbled into the right person."

"Yeah," Clark said, smiling at Bruce slightly.

Here's the thing, about the Daily Planet tower elevators. Those things were slow as shit. They were old, up to code, but old. If it wasn't for Clark's super powers, he'd probably be terrified of them. So fifteen floors could take upwards of five minutes. Okay that's an exaggeration, but you try standing next to the man who had broken your heart for fifteen floors while the elevator slowly grated along it's way.

"How have you been?" Bruce suddenly said, having taken off his glasses and tucked them into his suit.

Clark glanced over, blue eyes meeting. Then he shrugged.

"Fine. Eh, good. I've been pretty good."

"That's good. I'm glad," Bruce responded, and his smile told Clark he was.

"What about you? How's parenthood?"

That caused Bruce to smile wider.

"I've been busy, and that can only be thanks to Richard. But he's a good boy, very sweet."

"It seems like it."

Another awkward pause, and Clark glanced over, letting himself scan his ex. Not with any special vision, but he knew Bruce well enough to be able to tell he was holding himself tensely, like he was in pain, and that there was makeup around a bruise on his cheek.

"Still sneaking out at night then?"

Bruce's gaze snapped over, and for a moment there was a harsh edge to it. And then it softened and Bruce laughed through his nose, leaning back against the elevator and crossing his arms.

"Still sneaking out of work?"

"What?"

"Please, you think I never noticed how you used to randomly disappear from the office?"

Clark furrowed his eyebrows and frowned at Bruce. "What do you mean?"

But Bruce didn't elaborate as the elevator grinded to a stop and then the doors opened. Clark sighed and turned, walking in. People who saw them passing stopped conversations to whisper. Clark just weaved through the maze of cubicles. Lois' desk was just next to his, so he headed to his desk first, setting down his thermos before turning to walk out, nearly crashing into Bruce on his way.

"Oh god, sorry!" He exclaimed, stepping back as Bruce did the same.

"You're fine," Bruce said with a chuckle, moving out of the way.

Clark just gave a grimacing smile and then slipped around him, going to the next cubicle.

"Lo?" He called, poking his head around.

"Yeah, Smallville?"

"You gave a guest."

"I'm a little busy, I have a meeting with Perry in like, two minutes."

"Oh, well, uh. You might want to say hi."

"Why?"

"Because this guest could buy our entire company," Clark hissed, leaning in.

Lois looked up from her computer, frowning, then she looked past Clark and her eyes went wide, darting between Clark and Bruce.

"Mr. Wayne! Hello!" She exclaimed, jumping up.

"Hello, Ms. Lane."

"Um, welcome to the Planet!" She exclaimed, holding a hand out to him.

"Thank you," Bruce answered with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I just needed to talk to you about a few things on our last interview."

"Oh, yes of course. Clark, Jackie's out for the day, can you grab her desk chair for me?"

"Yeah."

Clark slipped past Bruce and walked a few desks down, stealing their coworkers chair and bringing it back to Lois' desk.

"Thank you, Clark," Bruce said with a smile as he took the chair, pushing it into the corner and sitting down. 

"Hey, can you pop down to Perry's office and tell him I'll miss our meeting?"

"No, because if I go down there, I'll get dragged into _my_ meeting, and I don't even have my Friday article finished, let alone my Sunday one."

Lois tsk'd him, shaking her head.

"Fine, fine. I'll call him. Would you be a dear and get us some coffee?"

"I'm not your intern, Lois."

"Nooo, but. . . Besides we don't make interns do that."

"Fine. Bruce, black still?"

"You don't have to do that."

"Lady Lois commands, so I must obey."

Bruce chuckled. "Yes, black is fine."

Clark turned and headed away to the break room, getting their coffee's. He knew how much creamer Lois liked by now. After he had both, he walked back, finding Lois just now hanging up.

"Alright, one black, one milk," he said, smirking at Lois as he handed her a coffee.

"Shut up, Smallville."

“Listen, it’s weird, Lois, okay?”

“Go away and let me talk to Wayne, please.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Clark looked up at Bruce, who was watching with him, looking curious and observant, as he smiled sadly.

“It was good to see you, Clark,” He told him, his smiling warming significantly.

“Yeah. . . you too, Bruce,” Clark answered before realizing how true this was.

It was good to see Bruce, to see that he was fine, and to show that he, _Clark_ , was fine. Clark squeezed Lois’ shoulder before ducking away and heading back to his cubicle, sitting down and getting to work on his article so that he wouldn’t get in trouble with Perry.

Two weeks later, it happened.

Clark had just been settling down at Lois' apartment one Sunday afternoon, preparing to watch _Singing In The Rain_ for the millionth time, when his phone started ringing. He held out his hand for it, and Lois leaned forwards, grabbing it off the coffee table and then giving it to the larger man who was currently spooning her.

"Hello?" He asked, not even checking the caller ID.

"Clark. I need you to come to the Batcave."

"Uhhh. Okay. Why?"

"It's important. Just come. You know the way?"

"Yeah. I'll figure it out? Is everything okay?"

No response, just a beep.

“Are you leaving?” Lois asked, looking back at him.

“Uh. Yeah, I guess so. Batman needs me.”

She sighed, sitting up and letting him get up.

“I’m watching this movie without you, smallville.”

“Nooo, Lo, you can’t do that to me.”

“I can, and I will.”

Clark pouted at her, even as he moved to the window.

“Fine, but expect to watch it with me again later.”

Lois stuck out her tongue, waving as he clambered out her fire escape window and then slid it shut behind him. He jumped back to his apartment quickly, changing before heading towards Gotham. It only took him about twenty minutes to cross the bay and then fly over Gotham to the location of the entrance to the Batcave. He had to hover outside the large metal doors for a few minutes until they slid open, and he shot down the tunnel. The batcave was usually pretty dark, and there was usually some construction going on, as Bats was always renovating things, improving them. When he got into the big open room that housed the sparing and gym equipment, the vehicles, and the batcomputer, it was mostly dark, especially the section by the computer.

“Um, Batsy?”

“I’m here,” a voice that sounded all too familiar to be Batman’s spoke from the darkness.

“Okay . . What’s up?” Clark asked, landing beside the batcar.

“I decided it was time to tell you Robin and I’s identities.”

“Oh.”

Clark felt a rush of pride and joy that Batman was finally trusting him enough to tell him this. He tried to keep his posture open and a pleasant look on his smile.

“Well, thank you for trusting me,” he said. 

It didn’t occur to him that this was a mildly odd way to do this. Most everyone else had just revealed their identities at a league meeting.

“Clark, there’s a reason I’m telling you this privately.”

It occurred to him in that second that he _knew_ that voice. He knew it painfully well. But he didn’t get time to reflect on this as Batman stepped out into a beam of light, and Clark realized he was talking to _Bruce Wayne_. His _ex-boyfriend._

“Oh, No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Yes! Clark was being hypocritical!  
> But! He did make a very mature and wise choice last chapter in leaving, because Bruce made the choice to continue lying even after Clark called him out. So Clark was in the right there, and I'm not sorry.
> 
> ANYWAY BABY DICK  
> He's so tiny. I love him. Precious boy.  
> And protective sis Lois is all I need in life.  
> Brucie is a sauce motherfucker and I love this asshole.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	3. We've Run Out Of Things We Can Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You said you cared  
> And you missed me, too  
> And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you  
> And the coffee's out  
> At the Beachwood Café  
> And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quickly answer one of the most popular questions from last chapter! Bruce found out Clark's identity when he shared it with Batman and Wonder Woman. Bruce had already pretty much known, but had been ignoring the information. As for how he reacted, he went "oh fuck" and accepted it with stoney silence at how dumb he had been.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

_ Oh No _

That was Clark’s first thought when he was told Batman’s secret identity. When he was told Bruce Wayne was Batman.

And then the pieces started clicking in.

He hadn’t stayed at the cave long that day, just long enough to have a small chat with Bruce about identity security, and then he booked it. He zoomed off, back to Lois’ apartment and sat on the sofa, staring at the tv and pretending he was processing correctly, when he wasn’t.

Because this explained  _ so much _ . This explained why Bruce was sneaking out every night. This explained why he was always getting injured. This explained why he was secretive, and always seemed to be lying to Clark.

It explained so much.

And he was such a dumbass for not having realised it. He had even thought of it, and then rejected it as a possibility. Because no, his billionaire playboy boyfriend could not be a masked vigilante, that was an insane thought.

Only it wasn’t. And it made so much sense.

And it lined up with Robin. Dick had come into Bruce’s life not long after Clark had walked out, and Robin came into Batman’s less than a year later. No one had questioned it. Or at least, not enough that Clark had heard about it. And Clark had superhearing.

For several weeks he avoided Bruce(and Batman), just because he needed time to process that he had been around his ex for years now, and Bruce had known that, and he had intentionally made the choice not to tell Clark. And Clark realised this now. He remembered, back when he and Diana had shared their identities with Bruce, he had seemed shocked, but Clark hadn’t questioned it. He should have questioned it.

He should have questioned Bruce long ago.

He could have protected Bruce.

After three weeks of skillfully avoiding contact with one Bruce Wayne, they got dragged together by some metahuman supervillain who was trying to blow up DC. Now, Diana could, of course, deal with this by herself, but it was on the day of a league meeting anyway, so they all just diverted from the Hall of Justice to uptown where the battle was happening, waging it’s way towards the white house. Clark somehow got there  _ after _ Batman, and was quite shocked to have to rescue Robin within two second of arrival.

“Robin!?”

“Hi Supes!” Robin said, grinning at Clark from his upside down position, Clark holding him by the ankle.

“Why are you here?!”

“Well, because I was already with B and then this started so I just started helping.”

Clark pressed his lips into a thin line and flipped Dick right side up, letting the boy scramble around onto his back.

“Where is Batman?”

“He’s over there!” Dick said, pointing.

Clark zeroed in on the dark form, flipping around the villain's elemental goons, destroying them easily, only for them to rise back up. He floated over, freezing a few of them so they could no longer reform.

“Superman,” Batman greeted, turning after exploding a rock elemental.

“Hey, I picked this one up over yonder, figured you might like him back.”

Robin scrambled off of Clark and skipped over to Bruce, chittering excitedly to him for a moment.

“Thanks,” Batman said, looking more at Clark then his own son.

“Yep.”

Clark turned and launched into action, fighting with Hal and Diana directly against the villain. He had some sort of short range control over elements, using these powers to form little elemental spirits. Which furiously attacked the heroes and any nearby civilians. Clark wasn’t really sure how it happened, but one moment, he was watching Bruce swing in to land a good hit, and then suddenly Bruce was being thrown back into him, and they were both getting tossed backwards into a large cement building, which promptly started collapsing around them.

Clark acted instinctively, rolling and pinning Bruce to the floor, shoving as much of Bruce under him as he could so that he literally became a breathing barrier between this fragile human and the thousands of pounds of cement that was threatening to crush and kill him. He grunted as huge chunks of stone fell on him, some sliding off, some just staying on top of him. He closed his eyes and forced himself not to panic. It would be okay. The weight couldn’t kill him, and it couldn’t keep him trapped for long. If nothing else, he could grab Bruce and just laser vision them a hole out of here. It’d be dangerous, but it’d be quick.

It took a few minutes for everything to stop falling around them, and then Bruce was coughing from underneath him, the air dusty and thick. 

“Clark? Are you okay?” Bruce asked softly.

His ears were ringing, his back was already aching, and he was so so tired. But he was okay.

“Yeah,” Clark mumbled back, picking up his head slightly and bumping it against a piece of concrete. “But we’re trapped.”

“I can see that,” Bruce said dryly, with another cough.

There was silence. Clark could still hear the battle outside, as well as Robin yelling for Batman.

“Clark.”

“What?”

“You’re hyperventilating. I need you to stay calm.”

Okay so maybe he was breathing a little heavier than normal, but he certainly wasn’t panicking. Yet….

“I’m fine. What are we going to do.”

“Well, it’d be really helpful if you could see the positions of all the concrete, but as is, I’m going to ask you to try to shift the pieces on your back right now.”

Bruce was looking up at him, the lenses of his mask glowing slightly, and making that the only part of the vigilante he could see.

“Okay. Okay. Stay under me though.”

Bruce didn’t respond. Clark took a breath, shifted his positioning a bit, and then pressed up. It wasn’t that much of a strain for him, but the cement groaned and scraped together as he dislodged it, pushing up until he was on hands and knees. He felt Bruce shifting and then suddenly a light clicked on, illuminating the small dark cavern they were in. Clark winced away from the bright light, giving his eyes a moment to adjust.

“Okay. If you can move your hands up, you should be able to push the two pieces on your back currently together to form a bit of a shelter.”

Clark did as instructed, quickly shifting so his hands were on the cement, holding himself up with his power. Bruce talked him through the process, and slowly he created a bit of a cave for them to sit in, tall enough that they both could sit up. So he shifted backwards, off of Bruce, letting the man sit up.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked. He couldn’t help but scan the man with his x-ray vision.

No glaringly obvious physical injuries, just some cracked ribs that appeared to be healing anyway.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce set up his flashlight so it stayed on, making a decent light source for them. Then he reached up and slid off his mask. It was the first time Clark had seen Bruce as Batman, and he wasn’t sure how he liked it. It was so odd, trying to associate these two in his mind. The light was casting sharp shadows on Bruce’s features. They just sat there and stared at each other for a minute.

“What’s going on up there?”

“Diana, Oliver, Barry and Arthur are still trying to catch the meta, Hal has started trying to dig us out. Have you tried comms?”

“Yeah. Mine are down. Yours?”

Clark reached up, tapping the small device in his ear. It angrily crackled and he winced, quickly turning it off.

“No dice.”

“Damn,” Bruce swore, looking around. “Then I guess we sit here and wait. Unless you can see a quick path out.”

Clark looked up and around, and then shook his head. Bruce sighed and shifted positions a bit. They sat there in painful silence for a few minutes until Clark finally snapped.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“What?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Bruce. Don’t try to deflect me.”

Bruce sighed, reaching up to run a gloved hand through his hair. Clark’s heart started picking up, and he realized that he was nervous to hear what Bruce was going to say.

“I did it to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting!”

“Well I know that now!” Bruce snapped, turning a glare on him. “Why didn’t  _ you _ ever tell  _ me _ !”

“What you mean the great Batman never figured out his boyfriend was a freaking alien!?”

“No! Actually! I didn’t! And you accused  _ me  _ of lying!”

“You were!” Clark shouted back.

“So were you!”

Clark gritted his teeth and looked away. Bruce made a fair point. He didn’t tell him on purpose. He had purposely lied.

“Besides, Superman was around back then. Which means you were no better than me. How many dinners did you skip out on because of “working late” when in reality you were on the other side of the planet, Clark?”

Another length of awkward silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Clark snapped his gaze back over to Bruce, eyes wide, mouth falling open.

“What?”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have lied. But I thought I had to, and I know now that I was wrong.”

“You know how different that evening would have gone if you had just told me?” Clark said gently.

“You would’ve called me crazy.”

“No I wouldn’t’ve. Well . . . okay, maybe. But once you had proved it, I would’ve told you that I was Superman, and we would’ve been able to go from there. I wouldn’t have left.”

Bruce just looked at him in silence for a moment.

“I hurt you though.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure I did some hurting that day too.”

He sighed softly, looking away again.

“Well, I deserved that.”

“No- Fuck.”

Bruce’s gaze snapped back over, watching Clark as he shifted closer, sitting on his legs and fully facing Bruce.

“No you didn’t. You never do, Bruce. You’ve always. . . always had this habit of blaming yourself, for everything. Every little thing and it’s bullshit. It’s so bullshit.”

Clark reached out, grabbing Bruce’s hands.

“Yeah, what you did and said was shitty. Yes it hurt me. But that doesn’t- It doesn’t mean you deserve to be hurt in return, Bruce. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my 26 years on this planet, it’s that humans do dumb shit every day, people get hurt, yes. They have their hearts broken. But you humans grow from it, you become better. You adapt and you learn and you survive. Yes. You hurt me. But I don’t  _ ever _ want to hurt you in return, do you understand?”

Bruce was staring at him with wide eyes, and if Clark didn’t know better, he might’ve suspected that there was a hint of wetness to them.

“Bruce. Do you understand?”

Bruce nodded slightly.

“I don’t hate you, Bruce. Maybe I need a little more time to sort out feelings and stuff, but I’m not gonna stop working with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Clark smiled softly, squeezing Bruce’s hands and then sitting back, looking up at their cement ceiling to see how close Hal was.

_ “If you guys are done with your bonding time, I think I’ve almost gotten you out.” _

Both heroes jumped slightly, looking at each other.

“I thought you said the comms weren’t working?”

“They weren’t,” Bruce said, shrugging and shaking his head slightly. “Lantern?”

_ “Yes, sir. It’s me. And they cut back in about three second before Clark cussed. Which Robin may have heard.” _

Bruce shot him a glare, and Clark winced.

“Sorry.”

_ “I lived in a circus, Clark, I heard much worse.” _

_ “Okay, Supes. I’m gonna pull a few more pieces up, but you need to be ready to cover Bats in case this all goes to shit.” _

“Copy,” Clark responded.

Bruce pulled on his mask and shifted a little closer. They looked at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat, voice modulator making his voice sound funny.

“You. . . I’m sorry. For lying and . . . everything.”

“You said that already.”

“I know. But I am.”

Clark didn’t get to respond, as he rushed to shelter Bruce’s body with his own as the cement was ripped apart above them.

“Ah! There you two are!” Hal exclaimed and then they were being lifted into the air by a green bubble.

They were moved out of the rubble and onto a clear patch of road, and Robin was instantly hug-jumping Batman, squeezing him tightly, even though neither spoke. Hal came over and helped Clark up, patting him on the shoulder lightly.

“That’s rough, buddy,” he said with a small smile, and then he turned and took off again.

“Are you okay, Robin?” Clark asked, looking at the small child.

“I’m fine! Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Bullet proof skin, remember?” 

Robin giggled lightly. “Right.”

“I should go,” Clark said softly, pointing behind him in the direction Hal went.

“Yeah. Of course. We’ll be there in a minute,” Bruce acknowledged with a nod.

Clark looked at him for just a moment, imagining the messy black hair and worried blue eyes he had seen just minutes ago. And then he nodded, turned and took off. 

And tried not to think about how soft his lips were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Healing!


	4. I'm Falling Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A'ight! Chapter 4! This is about three months after their talk in the rubble
> 
> Also, no! Clark is not any better then Bruce, because he was also lying the whole time.  
> Yes, Bruce is an utter dumbass and did not realize Clark was Superman until shortly before he was actually told.  
> They're himbos okay. Complete himbos and I love them.

He was here.

Bruce was watching Clark mock fight with Dick, all his movements extremely exaggerated to give the kid the time(time he didn't need) to dodge, and then strike, landing every one of his blows while Clark never once actually touched him.

He had been spending so much more time here.

It had been four months since Bruce had told him. Three since their talk in the rubble. Two and a half since he and Clark had started being friendly again. Two months since they had another, calmer talk about what had happened, about how they were both in the wrong because they were both lying about their identities.

Two months since Clark had come to the manor for the first time in years. It had been odd. Usually when people from the Justice League come to Wayne Manor, Bruce had to explain where things were, what was off limits, ectera, but Clark already knew. Alfred had been quite pleased to see Clark, properly, again, and they had talked for nearly an hour on his first visit. It was no secret how much Alfred had liked Clark.

And Bruce had been shocked by how natural it was to have him around again. He expected awkwardness, after all, he could tell you every room in this house they had sex in, you'd think it'd be awkward. But no, Clark seemed perfectly at ease, and Bruce found himself slipping into that whenever he was around. 

Hearing giggling pulled him out of his musings (Clark and Dick called it brooding), and he looked up to see Dick sitting on Clark's back, pinning him to the floor. Dick, even at eleven, was absolutely tiny compared to Clark. He could crush Dick without even thinking about it. But he was so gentle, and Bruce had never once feared injury would come to his son from the Kryptonian.

"I'm gonna flip you off now," Clark warned, bracing a hand on the ground.

Then he was pushing up, and Dick easily flipped backwards, off of him and onto his feet. Clark rolled up to his own feet, grinning at Dick, and then glancing up at Bruce, still smiling. Bruce found himself smiling back.

They were outside, it was a cool August evening, and after dinner, Dick had wanted to play basketball, and then it went from basketball to wrestling, so the two started wrestling on the grass while Bruce sat nearby under a sun umbrella and watched. Alfred had sat with him for a bit before heading back inside, saying he had things to clean and needed to make a grocery list.

Dick threw himself forwards at Clark in a roundhouse kick, and the man easily caught him, tossing him over his shoulder and then spinning, Dick squealing the whole time. They stopped, and Dick pushed his hands against Clark's back, looking up at Bruce.

"Hey, B! Can Clark come out on patrol with us?!" Dick asked, giving Bruce his best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce practically jolted. He had forgotten about patrol. Completely. He had been so entranced by watching Clark and Dick that it hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Sorry, kiddo, your old man doesn't want me in his city remember," Clark was saying.

How could he forget about patrol? It was the one thing that ruled his life.

"Pleeeasssseeeee just this once?"

It would be nice to have Clark there. He could help keep an eye on Dick, and they'd be able to get patrols done a lot faster.

"Dick, don't whine," Clark chided gently, as he set the child down.

But Batman didn't like Superman. If people saw the two together outside of the League, what would they say?

"Sorry," Dick mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"He can come."

"What?!" Both whipped around to look at Bruce, eyes wide.

Bruce shrugged. "If he- if you have time, I mean," he clarified, looking up at Clark.

The man was grinning when he met Bruce's eyes.

"I'd be so honored."

Bruce cleared his throat and looked away.

"Great."

When he looked back, Clark's grin had faded into something softer and familiar. Bruce immediately looked away again.

Patrol that night had no injuries, and they got back by twelve, because it was a school night. Dick said goodnight to both Bruce and Clark and then headed away, yawning the whole way to the stairs.

"He's a good kid, Bruce," Clark said softly.

He was kind of floating right behind Bruce as he silently logged the night's activities into the computer.

"He is," Bruce answered, glancing back towards the stairs. "He's an amazing kid. One day, he'll be better than me."

Clark gently touched his shoulder, and Bruce looked up to him. They just looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"I gotta go. . . I have work in the morning."

"Right."

"Yeah."

Silence fell again, then Clark cleared his throat, looking away. 

"Don't stay up too late, okay, Bruce?"

"I'll be fine," Bruce mumbled, looking back at the computer.

". . . Yeah, okay."

Clark gently squeezed his shoulder. Then he did something odd, he gently touched Bruce's cheek before turning and walking away. Bruce, startled, turned to watch him, wondering what just happened.

There was one weekend, where Dick and Bruce had to go down to Metropolis for a charity event. It was on Saturday, so Clark invited them out for lunch on Sunday, giving Bruce his address. So, Sunday afternoon, after sleeping until ten am, they got dressed and headed to Clark's apartment. The outside of the apartment building was nice, cute chic, plenty of windows for a secret superhero to climb out of. They rang the buzzer at the front door/gate, and stood there waiting for a second.

"Hello?" A female voice that was not Clark's spoke through the intercom.

"Um. Hello? Is this Clark Kent's apartment?"

"Uh, yeah."

"This is Bruce. . ."

There was a pause, then "Oh, come on up!"

Dick was watching Bruce with amusement.

"What?" Bruce asked him, eyebrows raising as the gate unlocked and he pushed it open.

"Nothing. . . Or well. . . I could be wrong, but you looked nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

Dick didn't respond for a second.

"Okay, B."

"I'm not."

They walked up a few stairs and found the proper door, knocking on it. A few seconds later, it swung open, and Bruce was greeted by the strong, delicious smells of lasagna. As well as the sight of Clark Kent in an apron.

"Hi guys!" Clark said with a huge grin.

Dick darted around Bruce to hug Clark quickly.

"Hello," Bruce greeted, finding himself smiling.

They came in, and took off their shoes.

"Smallville, your bread is gonna burn!"

"Oh shi-"

Clark darted away, and Bruce and Dick raised an eyebrow at each other before following. The apartment was nice, decently sized, but they weren't exactly good judges of what a normal amount of living space was. The living room, which they had entered into, had cream walls, a few decorations from Clark hung around. Everything was hard wood, and the furniture in the living room was a matching gray set with a dark wood coffee table. The kitchen was a good size, the dining table also in there, with plenty of room to spare. Here the walls were gray, with a white tile backsplash around the counters. And sitting at the dining room table was one Lois Lane.

"Hello, Ms. Lane," Bruce greeted with a smile, instinctively putting his hands on Dick's shoulders, holding the boy in place in front of him.

"Hi!" She said chipperly, writing in a notebook. "Sorry, I'm not intruding on your lunch, I just was getting Clark's advice on an article, and I brought him the Texas toast, so you can thank me for that."

"Listen here, you," Clark grumbled, shooting her a dirty look.

Lois laughed, closing her notebook, turning and sliding it into her purse.

"I'll get out of your hair. If he accidentally poisons you, I'm sorry. Be sure to let me write about it."

"I will not poison them! I'm a phenomenal cook!"

"Didn't your food make Jimmy sick?"

"Jimmy got sick because he chugged an entire 2 litre bottle of coca cola on a dare, Lo, not because of my food."

"Uh huh. So you tell everyone."

"Oh my God, get out."

Lois laughed, grinning at Bruce and Dick. Bruce was getting this odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like it, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more it grew.

"Yeah yeah, I'm going. See you tomorrow, Smallville."

"Bye!"

"Bye, Mr. Wayne," Lois said as she neared them. "And goodbye, Richard."

"Bye,” Richard said, turning to watch her leave.

There was a pause of silence, the door shutting behind Lois. Then Bruce turned to look at Clark. He was wearing a blue cable knit sweater and black slacks, his stained white apron protecting his clothes as he pulled things out of the oven.

“That smells good!” Dick exclaims, ducking out from Bruce’s hands to come over to Clark’s side, looking at the food.

“Thank you! I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

Bruce stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, looking around the apartment.

“Um, well, have a seat!” Clark said, glancing over at Bruce.

“Thank you,” Bruce said with a smile, pulling out a seat at the table and sitting down.

After a moment, Dick joined him, and then Clark started setting stuff on the table, lasagna and salad and big pieces of Texas Toast. It all looked phenomenal, and as they started eating, it turned out to be delicious.

“This is amazing,” Bruce said after his third bite of lasagna. “Is this a Clark original or is this your mother’s recipe?”

“Straight from Ma Kent’s cookbook,” Clark answered with a grin. “I’m glad you like it. Dick do you want seconds?”

The kid, mouth full of his last bite of toast, nodded rapidly.

“Dick, don’t stuff yourself,” Bruce warned, as he watched Clark put another slice of lasagna on his plate.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, Bruce. He’s a growing boy.”

Dick just grinned huge and started shoveling in food again.

“So how was the gala last night?”

“Oh, it was fine. Same routine as always,” Bruce said with a shrug. “Though I suppose it was a bit different with an 11 year old at my side.”

Clark chuckled. “Yeah, I could see how that would change your usual M.O..”

“What are you trying to say, Clark?” 

“Oh nothing, Bruce,” Clark shot back with a grin that was all too familiar.

Dick was looking between them, eyes narrowed, but Bruce didn’t notice this, just the odd flutter in his stomach. He looked away and shoved more lasagna in his mouth to prevent him from having to answer. They helped clean up before going and sitting in the living room, Dick sitting on the sofa with Clark, while Bruce sat in the armchair, Clark and Dick were lightly chatting about his school, and how he was handling life with Gotham’s socialites. Bruce just listened quietly, knowing it was good for Dick to socialize, and talking with adults was especially good.

“What’s it like, working for a newspaper?” Dick asked, sounding genuinely curiously.

“Oh, I love it. It’s a great way to always have an eye on everything. I can be as nibby as I want and no one questions it because I’m a reporter, that’s literally my job.”

“Bruce is nibby, but he’s not a reporter.”

“Well, he’s a detective, he has to be.”

Dick frowned, glancing over, Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

“What, lad?” he asked, curious where this thought process was going.

“Nothing.”

“Dick.”

“It’s nothing, B!”

Bruce scowled, but didn’t push it, looking up at Clark.

“Have you worked with Ms. Lane long?” he asked.

“See,” Dick muttered.

“Uh, yeah, Lois has been there since I started. She’s one of my best friends,” Clark said with a shrug. “I know you’ve worked with her before, but she really is a phenomenal writer. She can pull information from the deepest sources and never be wrong after a fact check. She’s working on a book too.”

“Really? That’s interesting, what on?”

“Social issues, I think. Probably something’s to do about the issues involving heroes and vigilantes, judging from the amount of times she’s interviewed me.”

“Does she know about . . .” Bruce gestured vaguely towards Clark.

“Superman? Yeah. It was kinda hard to not tell her, when she kept digging at me for my source on all my superman articles, and when I kept disappearing from the office at random hours.”

Bruce hummed, glancing over at Dick again. 

“She doesn’t know about anyone else, though,” Clark assured him, smiling.

“Good.”

Bruce despised the tight ball of jealousy that was growing in his stomach, he hated it. It had no reason to be here, and yet here it was. 

They left Clark’s at about three that afternoon, heading back to Gotham and getting home just in time for patrol that evening.

Life continued like this. Clark kept coming over, kept going out on patrol with them, he even started spending the night occasionally(in a guest room). The mildly smug looks from Alfred and Dick were getting a little annoying, if Bruce was being honest. But Bruce wasn’t being honest, he was going to lie himself black and blue before he was honest about what was going on with Clark.

_ Because he was scared. _

Because he didn’t know what was going on. He really didn’t. 

Clark was definitely flirting with him. He knew that much. He could tell, and found himself slipping, flirting back when he wasn’t paying enough attention. It was like Clark didn’t even really mean to do it, he just kinda did. He would say things, and smile sweetly, lightly touch Bruce’s arm or hand, or occasionally even his face. And Bruce hated that he didn’t hate it. Hated that he actually kinda liked it.

Hated that he wanted Clark back.

One sunday evening, he was sitting in the cave, working on sharpening some Batarangs - supply had been getting low - when Dick walked over, sweaty from his workout. Clark had been there for lunch that day, having just left an hour or so ago. Dick leaned against the workbench for a minute, watching Bruce as he drank his water. He often did this, so it didn’t bother Bruce any.

“B, I have a question.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“What’s going on with you and Clark?”

Bruce paused in his sharpening of highly dangerous weapons.

“Are you guys dating again? How am I supposed to view Clark. Is he my uncle or your boyfriend? Because I’m genuinely confused.”

Bruce was suddenly very glad he had stopped sharpening the batarang. He looked down, switching off the belt sander, the new quiet of the cave echoing in his ears as he considered this. Then he looked back up at Dick.

“I don’t know.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up.

“You. . .  _ You  _ don’t know?”

“I don’t. This is . . . it’s a difficult situation, given our past relationship. . . “

“Uh-huh. Right, so you’re telling me you  _ don’t  _ get all flustered when he smiles at you? Because the amount of times I’ve seen you start blushing around him tells me otherwise,” Dick said, crossing his arms.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his ward. “How much time do you spend watching us, Dick?”

“I don’t have to spend any. You do it all the time. Whether it’s here, or at the Justice Hall, or even out on patrol. Though usually, you have better control of it when you’re Batman.”

Bruce was starting to feel a little called out by his eleven year old.

“I’m just saying, Bruce. I think you still love him, and I think he still loves you. So I think you should do something about that. And I mean, something good, that will make you happy. Not cutting him out of our lives. Because that would make me very sad, and it would make you very sad too.”

Dick turned and walked away with that, and left Bruce feeling very exposed, by an  _ eleven year old. _

Children are very perceptive, and his especially. He supposes that was only his fault due to training Dick to be a vigilante. But, still, he didn’t need to attack Bruce like this.

For five days this conversation haunted him, in his work days he spaced off in meetings or at the office, and on patrol, he would stare into alley’s and try to answer the question. Then finally, on Friday, he went and sat down in front of Alfred.

“I need help.”

Alfred looked up and did not hide his surprise.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“I think I might have feelings for Clark again.”

“Again? You say this like you ever stopped loving him.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at the butler, who shrugged, sipping his herbal tea.

“You think you kept an eye on him for all these years for any other reason?”

Okay, that one Bruce couldn’t contend. He had occasionally checked up on Clark, even before he realized he was Superman, making sure he was okay, and was doing well in his new job. And he had never really been able to explain why he did it. He just did.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“What do you think?”

Alfred was the only person Bruce really trusted. If he thought it was a bad idea, Bruce wouldn’t do it. Well, at least when it came to things like this. 

Alfred sighed and looked at his tea for a moment. He had been waiting to check Dick’s homework before allowing him to join Bruce in the batcave.

“I believe, Bruce, that Mr. Kent still feels similarly towards you, and only left all those years ago because he thought you didn’t. I’ve been watching you two interact for the past few months, and it is not that unsimilar to how you two used to act. I would advise towards telling him.”

Bruce considered this for a moment, staying silent as he looked at the wall. Then he nodded and stood.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Alfred asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yup.”

Bruce turned and walked away.

Saturday, Clark dropped by while they were mid patrol, rather predictably, to be honest. He ended up staying with them the whole time, and then came back to the manor with them, going upstairs to watch a movie with Dick while Bruce finished some research and reports. When Bruce got upstairs, he found Dick curled up against Clark, sleeping, the  _ Hunchback of Notre Dame _ playing on the tv. Dick was sound asleep, head against Clark’s chest. Clark looked up and smiled softly.

“Hey. Get all your work done?”

“Yeah,” Bruce answered softly, walking closer.

He reached down and gently brushed Dick’s hair out of his eyes. Clark watched each of his movements, before looking up at Bruce, who was now fairly close.

“Can you take him to bed?” Bruce asked, keeping his voice down, knowing Dick could be a light sleeper at times. “And then I think we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?” Clark joked, grinning playfully.

“No,” Bruce said with a soft smile. “I think you know.”

Clark just smiled knowingly, and carefully picked Dick up, before standing and walking out. Bruce sighed and sat down in the now empty space, pulling Dick’s discarded blanket around his shoulders and watching the movie for a bit while he waited for Clark. He heard his footsteps before he saw the man, and then a minute later, he came into sight, sitting next to Bruce and turning to face him.

“So. You wanted to talk?”

Bruce shifted to face Clark, his knee bumping into Clark’s thigh. He kept a tight rein on his emotions, keeping his breathing steady to keep his heart rate calm. Clark’s eyebrow raised and he looked down at Bruce’s chest.

“You’ve gotten better at that.”

“Clark, focus.”

The room was dim, lit only by the tv and the one lamp that was behind Clark, backlighting him and making it hard to see his face properly. Clark shifted, putting his arm on the back of the sofa as he tilted his head slightly, waiting for Bruce to go on. Bruce took a breath and then just said it. He just confessed, got it over with. No need to dance around this. Either Clark would hate him or he wouldn’t.

“I think I’m still in love with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. And Bruce’s heart dared to betray  his fear \- him, ticking up a pace. Then Clark took a breath, and gave a small laugh. Bruce furrowed his eyebrows confused.

“Thank god,” was all Clark said.

Because now he was leaning forwards, capturing Bruce’s lips with his own, softly kissing him. Bruce’s immediate thought and reaction was  _ This is an attack, defend _ , but before his brain could order his body to attack, it was surging forwards, pushing into Clark with a desperateness he didn’t know he had. Clark’s arms were slipping around his waist, pulling him in, into his lap, and Bruce couldn’t find it into him to resist, putting his own arms around Clark’s neck. It had been so impossibly easy to fall for Clark, and in the same way, it was so easy to remember how to kiss Clark. Neither one really pulled away first, it’s just that at some point they were kissing, and the next their forehead were pressed together as blue eyes looked into blue eyes.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m still in love with you too.”

Bruce gave a small laugh, shaking his head and looking at Clark.

“I did gather that, yes.”

“I’m glad, I was hoping you would catch on with all the flirtings.”

“I did.”

Clark chuckled, leaning in and kissing his cheek lightly. “Yeah. After three months.”

“Hey! I got there!”

“Yeah,  _ eventually _ . Some detective you are.”

Bruce scowled at him.

“Your eleven year old got there before you did!”

“He- what!?”

“Yup. you shoulda seen it. You would have been proud of him.”

“. . . What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing, B, nothing at all.”

“Oh god, I just realized what this means.”

“What?” Clark asked, suddenly looking less cocky and more concerned.

“You, and Dick- It’s over for me.”

Clark just started laughing, tilting his head back and laughing quite happily at Bruce’s expense.

“Have fun telling him!”

“Ass!”

Everything was familiar, yet completely and totally new. They were both different people than the last time they had dated, there were new lines to be made, new understandings to come too, but the learning curve was worth conquering, because Bruce did love him. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick: *speaks the truth*  
> Bruce: *Attacked™*
> 
> I LOVE Dick okay? Okay.
> 
> Anyway! There's one last chapter :)
> 
> Keep an eye out for that!!!


	5. I've Fallen - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Final chapter! 10 years later! Enjoy :)

Clark woke to the sound of screaming. 

This wasn’t an unusual way for him to wake up.

But that doesn’t mean he likes to be woken up this way.

He just groaned and rolled, burying his face into the bare back beside him, trying to block out the screaming and instead focus on the soft ~~snoring~~ breathing, filling the room. It didn’t work well, but he could pretend right? He could pretend and trust that his eldest would handle whatever ER worthy injury had happened this school day. He could just block out the noise and pretend, right?

He could chose to focus on the soft sunlight filtering through the huge windows, landing on his skin and heating him slightly, or on the familiar feeling of his sheets and the soft skin of the warm body he was pressing up against. He could chose to go back to sleep and pretend this day hadn’t started with screaming, wake up a little more naturally and wake his partner up with a kiss and a soft ‘Good morning, darling’. He wanted to do these things. 

But unfortunately, he could not. He was already awake, and he couldn’t help but hear Dick and Jason screaming at each other, again. He couldn’t help but hear Damian cussing Duke out in Arabic. And he couldn’t but help hear Bruce’s soft snicker.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed, pushing up on one elbow to look down at his husband.

“I can hear the screaming too, Clark,” Bruce mumbled, pressing his face down into his pillow.

“Asshole!”

Bruce must’ve smiled because he gave no other answer.

Clark huffed in complaint and laid back down, sliding his arm around Bruce’s waist.

“It’s your turn,” Bruce commented, his eyes still closed.

“My turn to go deal with _your_ kids?”

“Yes. And they’re your kids. You agreed to the addition of most of them.”

“Most, being the keyword.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love them,” Bruce mumbled out, followed by a yawn.

Clark sighed, because Bruce was right.

“And besides, _your_ kids are even more of a handful then _my_ kids.”

Clark would’ve been offended, but damn if Bruce wasn’t right.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go handle it.”

Bruce chuckled. “Make sure to put some pants on first.”

Clark scowled, then leaned in, blowing a raspberry right under Bruce’s ear. He yelped in complaint and rolled away, hiding under their thick duvet. Clark got a good chuckle out of that and stood, heading into the closet first to pull on some pants and a hoodie, and then turned and left, heading down towards the dining room, where screaming had quieted to yelling.

“Okay, who killed who?” Clark asked, yawning as he walked in.

The room immediately went quiet.

“Good job, Todd! You woke him up!” Damian’s young voice immediately accused.

“Says the guy cussing in Arabic!”

“Okay, Okay,” Clark said, waving to stop them. “Damian, don’t cuss at your brothers.”

Damian glared at him, when Clark held it, coupled with an eyebrow raise, the twelve year old looked down at the table. Only then did he look around at the others, who were also sheepishly looking at the table.

“Is anyone bleeding?” he asked. He couldn’t smell blood, but that didn’t always mean anything with these kids.

When no one piped up, he asked his second question.

“Did anyone break any bones?”

Headshakes at that.

“Okay, and where is Alfred?”

Everyone pointed to the kitchen. Clark nodded and looked at the food on the table. And then another thought hit him.

“Where is Chris and Kon?”

Dick frowned at him. “Isn’t Chris with Lois?”

“And I thought Kon went to Lex’s,” Duke added.

“Oh, shit, right. Jesus.”

“Did you seriously forget where your own children are?” Damian asked, shooting him another glare.

“To be fair, he hasn’t asked where Tim or Cass are yet,” Jason inputted, poking at his waffles.

“Tim’s in San Francisco with his team, and Cass is . . . “ Clark paused, trying to remember where their daughter was. “Isn’t she with Steph?”

“Good job!” Dick said with a laugh and a grin.

“See, I do know things.”

Jason snorted at that, then nearly choked on his coffee. Clark sighed and made his way over, sliding into his usual seat and reaching for the coffee pot. It was empty.

“One of y’all better go refill this before your dad gets up.”

“Oh no, how will Bruce Wayne live without his morning coffee?” Dick said dramatically.

“He won’t, frankly.”

None of the kids jumped up to do it, so Clark with a sigh, stood and went to the kitchen, Alfred was inside, scrubbing the pan from this morning’s eggs.

“Good morning, Alfred.”

“Ah, good morning, Master Clark.”

“So what happened out there?”

“I do believe Master Jason tried to slip bacon into Master Damian’s breakfast and when Master Damian tried to stab him, Master Richard jumped in and intervened and nearly got stabbed instead.”

“He-” Clark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, starting another pot of coffee. “How many times have we told Jason not to do that?”

“Not nearly enough, I suppose.”

Clark just sighed and shook his head, standing there and watching the black liquid drain into the coffee pot. His only hope for survival through this long morning.

“When was Talia’s next visit?”

“I do believe next Saturday.”

Clark grunted and found a mug, quickly pouring himself a mug of what had already been brewed before replacing the coffee pot.

He had been with Bruce for nearly ten years now. Eleven if you count the time they dated before they knew each other’s superhero secret. Ten years of being superheroes together. Ten years of training their kids. Ten years of constant fretting over his boyfriend, then fiance, and most recently, when it became legal, husband. It had been quite the scandal when Bruce had finally revealed their relationship to the press(which is hilarious because Clark _is_ the press), because how could Womanizing Bruce Wayne be gay??? Which was hilarious to them at the time, because Bruce isn’t gay, he’s bisexual, but they figured that would be too mindblowing for the poor public. It took a few years, but the media finally warmed up to the relationship and have become quite protective of the pair. To the point that one time when Clark was seen hanging out with Lois, everyone immediately tried blacklisting her and both reporters had to make public statements about it. Luckily the _Daily Planet_ staff found it hilarious and decided to drag _Gotham Gazette_ for like two weeks about it.

“So who tried to kill who?”

Clark looked up to see Bruce trudge into the kitchen, freshly showered and shaved, but still in his bathrobe.

“Jason tried to put bacon in Damian’s oatmeal and so he tried to stab him.”

“Are you fu- Jesus christ,” Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know. I don’t understand why he can’t just leave Damian’s diet alone. He’s usually such a good kid.”

Bruce just hummed, getting himself coffee.

“I’ll go talk to them about it.”

He turned to Clark, putting a hand on his chest and leaning in, kissing him lightly. 

“And good morning, my star.”

“Good morning, babe.”

Bruce smiled at him before disappearing into the living room. Clark could hear his Disappointed Dad Voice™, he smiled softly, looking at the floor and sipping his coffee. After a few minutes, he walked in and found Jason and Damian both looking thoroughly chided, staring at the table as they both munched on their breakfast.

“Well, isn’t this much more pleasant.”

Damian shot Clark a glare. It wasn’t much of a secret that Damian didn’t like his step-father, he was painfully loyal to Talia, and while he, for the most part, respected Clark and Bruce’s relationship, he still clearly thought Clark inferior to his mother. And he didn’t trust Clark. But they were getting better. 

“I’m going to get dressed,” Damian grumbled and stood, pushing back from the table.

Of all their kids, Duke, Tim and Damian were the only ones who still were in school, going to Gotham Academy. Dick was finishing up law school, Jason was an english major, and Cass was in a private ballet school. Duke or Tim could drive Damian to school, so luckily Alfred didn’t have to worry about that anymore. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but he’s just so snooty about all his veganism and shit and I can’t take it,” Jason said, scowling down as he poked at his eggs.

“Jason. You need to respect his choices, we respect yours. He doesn’t have much control over things, and this is something he can control. You need to respect it, because it helps him feel accepted and loved, okay?” Bruce said softly.

“In summation, please stop trying to give your brother meat and be respectful.”

“I know, I just.”

Jason heaved a sigh and looked away, shaking his head. Clark shrugged to Bruce, returning to eating. After he had finished his fairly large breakfast, he stood and turned to Bruce.

“I’m gonna go, I gotta get to work and finish up that article.”

“Okay, love,” Bruce said, tilting his head up.

Clark, as was their habit, ducked his head and kissed Bruce gently. All kids present cried out in protest, and Dick threw a napkin at them.

Clark just laughed and kissed Bruce once more.

“I love you,” he murmured, smiling softly down at him.

“I love you too.” Bruce smiled back, reaching up and gently knotting his fingers into Clark’s hair.

“ _Disgusting!”_ Jason yelled.

Their life was chaotic and messy and dangerous. But Clark would never change it for anything, he loved every minute, and he’d be damned if he ever lost any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THINGS I WANNA STATE  
> Dick: Never had his fight with Bruce and ran off to Bludhaven, still works as Nightwing, but spends most of his energy on college.  
> Jason: Never died because Clark was there to save him. Stopped vigilante work to focus on school.  
> Tim: pretty much the same okay  
> Damian: isn't allowed to be Robin yet because they want him to have a normal life.  
> Chris: was adopted by Clark, same situation pretty much.  
> Kon: literally the same, only Clark got his head out of his ass and actually took the poor boy in.  
> Cass and Duke are pretty much the usual.
> 
> So yes! Happy family :) much chaos. We love them. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope this was a satisfying ending!!
> 
> Until next time~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and Comments greatly appreciated!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @queerbutstillhere for shitposting, and for story updates follow me @queerbutstillhere-writes
> 
> Thank you to postwick for editing for me! Follow them on tumblr and Instagram @legitpumpkin!


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